


Trial and Error

by garbage_dono



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal - Penile Sex, Anal Sex, Anxiety Attacks, Awkwardness, First Time, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Making Out, Premature Ejaculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 21:29:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8862799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garbage_dono/pseuds/garbage_dono
Summary: The first few times Yuuri and Victor try to have sex, things don't go as planned.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Oh look another YOI fanfic.
> 
> I wrote this all in one sitting, based on a couple of quick notes I wrote on my phone when the idea popped into my head on the drive back from a conference yesterday. Never thought I'd hope on the "five times they didn't one time they did" train, but here you go. 
> 
> ~~Episode 12 is gonna fuck me up.~~ ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

The first time they try, they're interrupted.

It happens without Yuuri really _realizing_ that it's happening, on their first night back in Hasetsu after the Cup of China. The sun is barely starting to set by the time Yuuri falls into bed with his clothes and glasses still on – just to rest his eyes before dinner, he says.

“Do you want me to set an alarm?” Victor asks, sitting on the edge of the bed and stifling a yawn. “Wouldn't want you sleeping through dinner.”

Yuuri laughs into the pillow at that, because the way he says it makes it painfully obvious that he knows as well as Yuuri does it will be a cold day in Hell before either of them choose sleep over his mother's homemade katsudon.

He turns to face Victor, propping himself up against the pillows on his elbows. “I didn't technically win,” he says.

“You made it to the podium,” Victor tells him, pressing a reassuring hand against Yuuri's knee. “And one step closer to gold at the Grand Prix. That's close enough for today.”

That makes Yuuri smile, as tired as he is, but the hand on his leg still makes him shiver. His lips tingle as he remembers that kiss on the ice, and his gaze drifts away from Victors eyes until it settles on his mouth.

They've shared more kisses since then – some quick and innocent, some that linger for just a moment longer every time. It's become comfortable, natural, but every time, Yuuri's heart pounds for a moment before their lips touch. Like he still can't quite believe that Victor won't pull away.

He still hasn't quite managed to figure out how to ask for them yet, but Victor's eyes dart up to meet his again, and he leans in.

Voices and other noises drift in from the kitchen, but they're distant and muffled, and Yuuri tunes them all out as he lets his eyes slide closed. Victor kisses him gently, keeping space between their bodies despite them being almost horizontal on the bed, not wanting to push things too far. But Yuuri misses the warmth of Victor's skin, and he reaches up to pull him closer.

He's never done this before, and he's acutely aware of the fact that they're in _bed_ together as Victor gives in and sinks down against him. But the feeling of his sheets and the soft creak of his bed are familiar, and that, together with the smell of Victor's shampoo and the gentle drag of his fingers against Yuuri's skin and clothes, puts him at ease.

He doesn't mean for it to go further than this – he's learned quickly that he very much _enjoys_ kissing, and even if he's sleepy and hungry, he doesn't quite want to stop. It's the first time in so long that he's been in his own room, in his own bed, the first time that he's had a moment alone with Victor where his mind isn't running a mile a minute thinking about which jumps he should start practicing for the next competition.

His mind has gone wonderfully blank, and he lets out a sigh against Victor's mouth.

He isn't planning it, but as he tugs Victor even closer, craving more warmth and friction, Victor's thigh presses between his legs and nudges up against him. It sends a feeling coursing through him that he hasn't felt before. It's hot and insistent, similar to the urge he might feel to touch himself, but it's more than that. It's an urge to _be_ touched.

Victor feels it too, judging from the tiny moan he lets escape when Yuuri presses his hips upward. He pulls back, meets Yuuri's eye, like he's about to ask a question, but Yuuri answers before he gets the chance; he kisses Victor again, more insistently.

He's not sure what he wants, but he knows he wants _more._

Victor's lips move away from Yuuri's, making him whine softly, but he doesn't pull away – instead, his mouth trails down over Yuuri's jaw, settling in the curve of his neck, and-

 _Oh,_ that's a new feeling.

Victor sucks on the skin above his collarbone, hard enough to make Yuuri gasp in surprise. He bites his lips, fingers curling against Victor's shoulder, and his face flushes pink when he realizes that he's starting to get hard.

His mind comes crashing back to reality when there's a knock on his door, and he sits bolt-upright, sending Victor fumbling backward. “Yuuri!” It's Mari, Yuuri realizes, and he feels like his stomach is full of ice. “Dinner is ready. Come out, will you?”

“Be there in a second!” Yuuri calls, and by some miracle, his voice comes out steady, if a little hoarse.

He waits until her footsteps fade down the hallway before hiding his face in his hands and falling back against his pillow. Victor laughs next to him. “Suppose we can only take what privacy we can get, hm?” he asks.

His half-hard erection is flagging quickly in his pants, leaving a dull ache in his gut. Though that might just be hunger, judging from how his stomach is starting to growl. Before he can talk himself out of it, he pushes himself up and stands. The last thing he wants is to keep his family waiting – then they might start wondering what was _taking so long_.

He's halfway out the door when Victor grabs his wrist, his voice low and urgent: “ _Yuuri._ ”

Yuuri glances back at him, and all Victor does is gesture vaguely toward his neck, his face turning the slightest shade of pink. Yuuri leans around the corner to look in the mirror, and there, right where Victor had focused all of his loving attention, is a pink mark on his skin.

Just about the size and shape of Victor's mouth.

“I, ah...” Victor clears his throat. His face is _red_ now, and he looks almost sheepish. “I suppose I got a bit carried away...”

Yuuri tugs on a sweater that hides the mark and scurries down the dinner with Victor in tow, and even though he spends the meal with the itchy fabric riding up around his neck, he can't find it in him to be angry.

* * *

The second time they try, Yuuri loses his nerve.

Their first night in Moscow, they land an hour behind schedule, thanks to a delayed flight, and they're ravenous by the time they make it out of the airport. Their first stop is a small cafe where they eat mushroom pelmeni and black currant pastries, propping their feet up on their luggage under the table the whole time. Victor leaves a generous tip, and they make it to the hotel well after dark.

Yuuri makes it back up to the room feeling like he's just run a gauntlet. With Victor still braving the onslaught of curious reporters, Yuuri is left to lie on his bed, stare at the ceiling and _think._

That never ends well.

His mind turns over and over what Yurio said, as much as he doesn't want it to. Second place at the Cup of China is hardly a disappointment, but he can't afford to get cocky if he's going to make it to the finals. After all, what will Victor have left to do if he doesn't place besides return Russia for good?

It makes his stomach clench uncomfortably, and Yuuri presses the heels of his hands against his closed eyes and tries to breathe. In...out...in...out...

Who will coach him if Victor leaves? He could ask Celestino to take him back for what years he has left in him, but would that really be the same? No, of course it wouldn't, for more reasons than one.

In...out...in...out...

Will he ever see Victor again? The trip between Russia and Japan is a long one, and no doubt he would be busy trying to make up lost time in his own training. He's barely getting used to calling this a _relationship –_ how is he supposed to tag _long-distance_ onto it too?

In...out...in...out...in-

The breath sticks in his chest and comes out as a pained little groan. As painful as it would be to lose Victor, he could never ask him to stay if he doesn't advance – he couldn't bring himself to be so selfish.

He hears the door open before he opens his eyes, and Victor is halfway through an apology for taking as long before he pauses. “Yuuri,” he says, tone suddenly serious. “Are you thinking again?”

He knows what the question means, and Yuuri forces his eyes open. “I'll be fine,” he says with a forced smile. “Just nerves. Like always.”

“If you say so.” Victor sits on the edge of the bed and removes his coat with a sigh. “Of course, if there's something you're _not_ telling me, you know you don't have to hold back. Can't have you losing sleep before a competition just because of nerves, hm?”

Victor's smile is warm and kind, but it makes Yuuri's throat go dry when he tries to answer. The smile starts to fade when Yuuri doesn't answer, and god, now he's gone and made Victor worry.

“It's nothing,” he insists.

“It's not.”

“I'll be-”

“Yuuri.”

He forces himself to meet Victor's eye again, his lip wedged between his teeth. Slowly, gently, Victor reaches out and presses a careful hand against the side of Yuuri's jaw. “I want to help,” he says. “I should be able to do that. I'm your coach, after all.” He breathes out on a laugh, the way he always does when he doesn't want to show just how vulnerable he feels. It's something Yuuri wishes he could master, too. “Please...tell me what you need, Yuuri. Help me understand.”

Yuuri reaches up before he can stop himself, covering Victor's hand with his own. His skin is so soft that Yuuri wonders why he always hides it under those damn gloves. “Can you stay here?” he asks in a small voice.

“Of course.”

“For the night?”

A pause, and Victor smiles. “Of course,” he says again.

Yuuri sighs, nuzzling against Victor's hand and – before he realizes he's doing it – pressing a kiss to his palm. Victor's breath rushes out all at once, and Yuuri feels it on his knuckles, warm and shuddering.

He's forgotten how much he craves this – the closeness, the intimacy. They haven't put a name to this yet, but that doesn't seem to matter to the warm feeling swirling in his chest and the pit of his stomach. He runs a careful hand up over Victor's wrist, thumb grazing over the bones there as he manages to open his eyes again and find Victor staring at him.

Waiting for him to decide what he wants.

“Could you kiss me?” Yuuri asks, and Victor does.

It's gentle, like Victor always is, but Yuuri wants more. He wants to get to know Victor's body, wants to touch and be touched – he craves it so much that it doesn't seem to matter how much he gets. He always wants _more._

He tugs Victor down as he lies back on the bed, their mouths still melded together. The mattress is firm underneath them, Victor settling between his legs easily when Yuuri parts them for him.

It's Yuuri who deepens the kiss, sighing softly against Victor's mouth when he parts his lips and finally tastes the lingering notes of black currant and coffee. It's so easy to block the rest out, to forget about the competition and the Grand Prix and just hide in the warmth spreading through his chest as Victor's hand trails down the length of his body to rest on Yuuri's hip.

Yuuri slips his hands under the soft material of Victor's shirt at the hem, giving in to the urge to find more of that soft, touchable skin. Victor gasps at that, but doesn't stop him – he lets Yuuri explore as much as he wants.

“Can I take this off?” Yuuri breathes, and Victor pauses to look down at him.

“If you like,” he says, and he leans back on his haunches and raises his arms, staying quiet and still as Yuuri carefully removes his shirt.

Yuuri has seen all of it before – and a lot more – but never like this. Never in a darkened bedroom with as much time as they like to themselves. It feels significant, somehow, and it makes Yuuri's heart pound even faster, but he still doesn't want to stop. He reaches out to run his fingers down Victor's chest.

He wonders if Victor's heart is beating as quickly as his own, and he flattens his palm over his sternum, hoping to get an answer. Victor laughs at that, covering Yuuri's hand with his own and leaning in for another kiss.

They fall back onto the bed again, the room quiet except for their breathing and the soft slide of lips on skin.

The familiar ache in his gut is back, and he knows he's getting hard in his pants, but Victor's hands don't wander that far south yet. Yuuri can't decide if he wants them to or not, but he doesn't spare it more than a passing thought now. He focuses on the feeling of Victor's skin under his palms, warm and smooth and taught.

When Victor's hands do start to move again, they slip under Yuuri's shirt, dancing almost playfully over his ribs, as if they're asking for permission to go further. Yuuri stares up at him, raising his arms over his head on the pillows.

Victor laughs and removes Yuuri's sweatshirt almost reverently.

Suddenly, Yuuri is very aware of the draft, feeling much more exposed than he would have thought. Victor's eyes are everywhere, trailing down his body, and sure, Yuuri has been naked in front of him before, but he still feels like he has the fight the urge to cover himself. He pulls Victor close again, because if they're kissing each other, he won't have to worry about having to hide. He won't have to _think._

It works, for a while. Then Victor's hands _do_ start to wander lower, pressing against Yuuri's inner thigh, _dangerously_ close to where he's starting to get embarrassingly hard.

“Do you want more?” Victor asks.

Yuuri pauses, swallows thickly, then nods.

Instead of continuing, Victor stops, pulling his hand away. “Are you sure?”

The answer gets caught in Yuuri's throat. It should be yes – he _wants_ it to be yes. The last thing he wants is for Victor to think he's pushing him away.

“I...” he starts to say. “I...don't know.”

Victor blinks, then smiles. “You need your sleep, Yuuri,” he says, and there's no hint of disappointment in his voice, despite the noticeable bulge in his pants. “It's late.”

He's pulling away, getting off of the bed, and Yuuri reaches for him before he can stop himself. “Don't go,” he catches himself saying. “I...I don't want you to leave.”

Victor stops, slowly pulling Yuuri's hand up to his mouth and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “Just wanted to get you a glass of water,” he says with a warm smile. “You have to stay hydrated if you're going to perform your best, hm?”

He waits for Yuuri to let him go, fingers slowly pulling away from Victor's and resting on the mattress again.

Yuuri settles under the covers, curling up against the pillows and closing his eyes. As hard as he tries, he can't name the wall that's still up, keeping him from taking this next step. It shouldn't feel so significant – it shouldn't be so _difficult._

In...out...in...out...

Victor returns a moment later, carefully pressing a plastic cup into his hands. “Do you still want me to stay the night?” he asks softly, and Yuuri glances up at him and nods.

He downs the water and lies back on the pillows, and a moment later, Victor's arms are around him. His breath is warm and steady against Yuuri's bare shoulder, skin pressing gently against skin from his ribs to his waist.

“I'm sorry,” Yuuri forces out.

“For what?”

“I thought I was ready.”

“You're ready when you're ready,” Victor tells him, softly. “Until then, you need your rest.”

The breath he'd drawn in comes out in one slow sigh as the exhaustion of the day hits him all at once. He hadn't realized just how _tired_ he'd been.

Maybe Victor has a point, he thinks, as he drifts off to the feeling of Victor's fingers trailing up and down his arm.

* * *

The third time they try, Victor falls asleep on him.

Makkachin is curled up on his bedroom floor, snoring softly, and Yuuri has never found the sound so comforting. He lets his fingers drag unhurriedly through Victor's hair as they kiss lazily. It's almost more like they're nuzzling against each other rather than kissing, really – it's messy and clumsy, and Yuuri thinks it's the closest to perfect they've ever gotten.

As long as the drive home from the airport was, it was been nothing compared to the flight from Moscow. At least he spent the last leg of their trip with Makkachin resting on his lap and Victor's hand covering his between them. Both made the time go by almost in a blink.

The house is quiet so late, and Yuuri's mind – surprisingly – is even more so. He lets his hands wander up and down Victor's back, holding him close as Victor settles between his legs.

There's no goal in mind, no hurdle that either of them is trying to overcome. They enjoy the silence and each other, taking their time to savor the taste and sound and feeling of it all. When Yuuri reaches down for Victor's hand and guides it slowly between his own legs, it feels as natural as breathing, even if his heart skips a bit when Victor lets out a surprised little noise against his mouth.

“You want to?” Victor asks, and Yuuri nods, without hesitation this time.

Victor's movements are sluggish, as he gently cups Yuuri over his sweatpants, making Yuuri hum and roll his hips upward. It's a new feeling, a good feeling – Victor's hand is warm and experienced, moving with every bit of reverence expected of something so intimate.

Yuuri's breathing is heavy, but steady as Victor finally slips his hand under the waistband and touches him properly, and his eyes slip closed, his fingers curling against Victor's back.

It isn't overwhelming as much as it's unfamiliar – he's only ever touched himself this way, and the feeling of another person coaxing him to hardness is different than he would have expected. He's flushed in the face, feels like his cheeks are steaming, they're so hot, but his body is relaxed and pliant under Victor's touch.

Victor's mouth is pressed against Yuuri's jaw, teeth and tongue and lips dragging over his skin lazily, almost sloppily. His movements are careful and slow...

Too slow, Yuuri notices, and it's making him want to squirm.

“Victor?” he asks, nudging Victor's shoulder, and he's answered with a soft snore. “ _Victor._ ”

Victor starts awake, staring down at him and turning visibly pink in the face even in the dim light of his darkened bedroom. “Sorry, sorry...is something wrong?”

His hand is still pressed against Yuuri's half-hard erection, starting to move again, albeit a little listlessly. It's only then that Yuuri really notices the bags under Victor's eyes, and he reaches up to cup Victor's face in his hand. “Have you slept since you got back?” he asks.

Victor looks almost sheepish. “I tried,” he admits, and Yuuri doesn't miss the brief glance he casts down at Makkachin, still asleep on the floor. “I...did try.”

Yuuri finds himself laughing, softly, and he pulls Victor's hand out of his pants and rolls the two of them over until Victor's head hits the pillow beside him. “You need your rest,” he says. It's the same advice that Victor has given him plenty of times before. Good advice.

“I know,” Victor sighs with a tiny smile of his own. His eyelids are already drooping, and he stifles a yawn. “Look at me...failing to perform when it really counted.”

“It can wait,” Yuuri says.

Victor is already asleep, which is probably for the best.

* * *

The fourth time they try, Yuuri embarrasses himself.

The ring on his finger catches a bit on his shirt as it's pulled over his head and forgotten on the floor, and Victor's drags across his skin as his hand wanders over his chest. It makes him shiver – half from the cool metal pressing against his nipple, and half from the soft moan that Victor lets out against his neck as he presses his hips down against Yuuri's.

The hotel room is small and plain, and Victor complained about the lack of rose petals or mood lighting, but Yuuri doesn't need any of that. Victor is enough all on his own, and the time feels more than right.

He wants this – wants to feel every inch of Victor he can reach and let Victor feel every bit of him in return.

Even without a moment's hesitation on Yuuri's part, Victor still pulls away for just long enough to look down at him. “Do you want to?” he asks, and Yuuri nods enthusiastically and tugs him back down again.

Victor grinds down against him, and Yuuri can feel him hard and pressing against his thigh. It's thrilling, knowing that it's all for him, that he's the one stoking Victor's desire, and he digs his fingernails into Victor's bare shoulders with a weak little moan as he rocks up against him.

He's wanted this for so long that it seems silly that they've waited as long as they have, but Yuuri is also happy that it's only happening now. They can take their time, enjoy it, make it something they can both remember later without a single regret.

Yuuri reaches down, grasping the hem of Victor's pants and pushing them down over his thighs. Victor chuckles, shimmying the rest of the way out of them and tossing them on the floor next to the bed. He grins down at Yuuri, naked and flushed above him, and rolls them both over until Yuuri is holding himself up at arm's length over him. “Your pace,” Victor tells him with a warm little smile, his hand hooked gently on Yuuri's forearm. “Whatever you want, Yuuri.”

Whatever he wants.

It makes his heart pound and heat throb in his gut and between his legs. Victor is ready and waiting below him, staring up at him with the kind of gaze that he thought was only reserved for dirty movies. After all of this waiting, all of this agonizing, he can do whatever he likes.

He wonders what kinds of noises he can get out of Victor now.

He's painfully hard in his own pants, and he follows Victor's lead and wriggles out of them. It's not as graceful as Victor had made it seem, but he manages to free himself without tumbling off of the bed, at least, and when he straddles Victor again, naked this time, he reaches down to wrap a hand around Victor's cock.

It's...different.

He's only ever been this intimately familiar with one body – his own – and Victor's cock is longer and slimmer than his. He's hard under Yuuri's hand, warm to the touch, and the first few cursory strokes make Victor bite his lip and groan.

It's different, and _amazing,_ and the sound of it shoots straight to Yuuri's groin.

He wants to feel more, to _hear_ more, and he grinds down against Victor, desperate for some kind of friction to try and relieve the pressure twisting in his belly. The moment his erection presses up and slides against Victor's, he lets out a gasp.

Victor's hand rests on Yuuri's thigh, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “You alright?” he asks, almost laughing as he does.

Breathlessly, Yuuri nods. “It's good,” he says, and he doesn't waste time saying anything more. Instead, he presses his face to the side of Victor's neck, letting his hips move however they please – his body knows what to do, how to move. All he needs to do is let it.

It's comforting in his own way. It's one thing he doesn't need to think about. He can close his eyes, breathe in Victor's scent, and _feel._

Victor is moaning softly underneath him, and Yuuri can't get enough of the sound. His head is spinning, the heat in his gut roiling, and when Victor reaches down to wrap a hand around both of their erections, Yuuri lets out a whine, his excitement mounting-

He squeezes his eyes shut as he feels a familiar tension building. It takes him by surprise – Victor's erection is pressed firm against his own, his hand moving so _deliciously_ that by the time Yuuri manages to get out a warning, it's already too late.

He bites his lip and groans as he spills over Victor's hand and stomach.

Victor is chuckling when Yuuri opens his eyes again, feeling every agonizing bit like a virgin stereotype. “So much for that impressive stamina,” Victor says, and Yuuri rolls off of him and buries his face in the pillow.

“I didn't realize it would happen so quickly,” he mutters.

“Yuuri, I didn't mean it!” Victor insists, but he's still laughing as he presses a hand to Yuuri's back. “Yuuri...Yuuri, won't you look at me?” Slowly, Yuuri peeks over at him, and Victor is smiling warmly. “You act like I didn't do the same my first time.”

He leans in and kisses Yuuri on the corner of his mouth, brushing the sweaty hair from his face. His ring glints in the low light as he does. “Was it good, at least?” Victor asks him.

“Obviously,” Yuuri quips, and his face heats up even more as he glances down and sees his own semen still sticking to Victor's hip bone. “You didn't even come.”

“No...but that doesn't mean I didn't enjoy myself.”

The heat and pressure in his belly is gone, but the possessive feeling twisting in Yuuri's chest remains, and he trails a lazy finger over Victor's chest. “It's not fair that you got to see me come, and I didn't get to see you...”

Victor's eyes darken again. “I could...if you want.”

Without hesitation, Yuuri nods.

He lies next to Victor in bed, touching him all up and down his torso and pressing sloppy kisses to his mouth and jaw and neck as Victor strokes himself. When Victor comes in his own hand with a gasp, his eyebrows knit together and his nose wrinkles so adorably that Yuuri can't help but kiss him again with a wide and tired smile.

* * *

The fifth time they try, it's the morning after the fourth time, and they finally manage to stop trying so hard.

Victor wakes Yuuri up with a slow and sloppy series of kisses to every bit of skin that he can reach, his hand trailing up and down Yuuri's ribs. They're still naked from the night before, no fabric getting in the way, and Yuuri turns as he slowly wakes, facing Victor as he wipes the sleep from his eyes.

He doesn't say anything, but he nods as he cups Victor's face in his hands.

They take it slow, Victor keeping his hands on Yuuri's hips as they grind together, still half asleep. It's unhurried and clumsy, and Yuuri laughs quietly when his and Victor's noses bump together in the dark.

Victor stretches himself open with his own fingers as Yuuri rains kisses down over his shoulders and neck and jaw, learning all the places he loves to be touched and licked and nipped. He even leaves a few marks of his own on Victor's skin, savoring the needy little moans that Victor lets out whenever he adds a hint of teeth.

When Yuuri finally sinks into him for the first time, it feels like every breath he's ever taken rushes out of him at once. His face burns and his hair sticks to his forehead, but Victor is smiling up at him. Even when Yuuri gets sweat in his eyes, even when his hand slips on the pillows and causes him to bump his head on the headboard, even when he slips out of Victor and it takes a few seconds of awkward fumbling to line himself up again, Victor keeps smiling, and so does he.

He needs to stop twice to collect himself, but he holds himself back until Victor gasps and writhes underneath him, coming in Yuuri's hand. It makes it that much more satisfying when he finally spills inside the condom with a shuddering little moan.

They lie next to each other afterward, sweaty and flushed and sated, and Yuuri brushes the messy fringe of bangs from Victor's face so he can look at him properly. “Better than last night?” Victor asks him, and Yuuri laughs quietly and nods.

Better, yes, but hardly perfect. He hopes it stays that way – he's starting to think that imperfection might be much more fun.

 

**Author's Note:**

> ~~more like trial and _eros_ am I right?~~


End file.
